


The Unlaid Ghost of Haesindang

by Adelth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Comedy, Dick Jokes, Horror, In The Dark Of Night | yoihorrorzine, M/M, Past Character Death, The Unlaid Ghost of Haesindang, Yuuri is a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adelth/pseuds/Adelth
Summary: Victor and Chris are ghost hunters, Mila is their camerawomen, Georgi is a psychic, and Yuuri is the thirstiest ghost in all existence.





	The Unlaid Ghost of Haesindang

**Author's Note:**

> I went into the horror zine intending to write serious, sexually charged, gut-wrenching horror. Instead I wrote this, which is mostly dick jokes. Good to know your niche I guess?
> 
> I was lucky enough to collaborate with [smolkristen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolkristen/pseuds/smolkristen) on this project, and you can see the amazing art she did [here](https://twitter.com/smolkristen/status/1172672830485467137?s=21). Please do check it out.

“Victor.” The silver-haired man, dazzlingly photogenic in the afternoon sun, doesn’t turn from the spectacle of Chris gesticulating at a squat wooden sculpture of a man with a penis emerging from his mouth. The expression on the hand-carved face is indefinable, eyes closed and jaw gaping wide around the protuberance. It admittedly draws the eye. “C’mon Victor, we just have to film a few lines, then you can go explore the scenery with Chris.”

“Right,” says Victor, camera-ready smile smoothing over the confused dent between his eyebrows. Over his shoulder the ocean is just visible through a break in the trees, the vista crowned with a semi-circle of similarly phallic stone monuments. “Is there actually a ghost here, or is Chris just living his dream on company time?”

“Oh, there’s a ghost. Or a ghost story at least, but I’ll let Chris explain it to you on camera. I told him the only way we were adding a last minute stop in South Korea was if he did all the background work himself.” 

Chris doesn’t seem to have minded, frolicking ahead through the park grounds. He disappears around a corner, drawn by whatever new and doubtlessly priapic attraction lies ahead. Victor takes a moment to settle himself, then nods to Mila that he’s ready.

“Before we go any farther, the team would like to remind viewers that this program is not intended for general audiences. This episode will contain some unavoidably sexual content, and honestly we say ‘fuck’ a lot at the best of times—”

~

“Fuck!” Chris says from his perch astride a mock iron cannon. Unlike a real piece of artillery, the long black barrel ends in a bulbous cockhead instead of a muzzle face and open bore. “This one is my favorite.” To demonstrate his devotion, Chris bends down and licks the dick-canon. 

“Cut!” yells Mila. “Dammit Chris, too far. We can’t air this.”

Chris, unchastened, presses his cheek against the giant phallus and sighs. “Don’t take this away from me Mila, it’s my Everest.” 

Victor, already done filming his section of the opening gag, throws a consoling arm over Mila’s shoulders. “We’re in a park full of penis statues. I think we can admit this is beyond our ability to handle tastefully.” 

Chris sits up, but only so he can arch his back and lean into his seat lasciviously. “Hey, Victor, how much lube did we bring?”

Mila sighs, but Victor just cocks his head in consideration. “Not enough Chris, definitely not enough. Now stop desecrating some artist’s vision and tell us why we’re here.” 

“I am clearly honoring the artist’s vision, and we’re here because this video is going to get _ so many hits _. Just use this as the thumbnail, it’s the most clickable thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay great,” says Mila, “I love clicks and you love dicks. Now get down here and tell the story properly.” 

~

“Hi, I’m Victor.”

“And I’m Chris. Today we’re in Haesindang Park to investigate one of the strangest ghost stories I’ve ever heard.”

“Did someone die trying to fuck one of the statues without enough lube?”

“Victor!” Mila hisses from behind her camera. “You know what, screw it. I’m leaving it in. Your fans deserve to see this.”

Victor holds up one finger and winks. “Remember age-appropriate audience, always use enough lube! This is the information age, if you die trying to screw something inappropriately large everyone will know about it forever.”

“I think I saw that documentary,” adds Chris. “But seriously, a flange is important too.” 

“Cut!”

~

“Local legend has it that a foreign ship was passing through, and they had to stop here for supplies or something.”

“I really appreciate the depth of your research.”

“Thank you, Victor. The ship happened to be carrying a beautiful virgin on their way to be married. Their honor had to remain unquestionable, so the crew left the virgin on a rock in the sea while they went ashore.”

“Well, that seems...really questionable. What happened next? Did the virgin decide this was bullshit, lead a mutiny, and become an infamous pirate?”

“No, though that _ would _ make a good story. Unfortunately a terrible storm blew through, and by the time the ship managed to return the virgin was gone.”

“Right, who doesn’t misplace the odd virgin. I’m going to have a hard time feeling bad for these people.”

“I’m not sure what happened to the ship’s crew, they just disappear from the story at this point. Local fishermen stopped being able to catch anything in these waters though, which is a problem when that’s your livelihood.”

“So they got stuck with the vengeful ghost? Doesn’t seem fair for anyone.”

“I wouldn’t say the ghost was holding onto a grudge, more like a goal. One day a fisherman happened to take a piss into the water. Afterward, he was able to catch fish again.”

“If you’re telling me the ghost is into golden showers, this _ is _ the strangest thing we’ve ever investigated.”

“The general consensus is that exposing your dick’s the important part. People started leaving offerings to appease the unsatisfied ghost, and they’ve been collecting here ever since.”

“I feel like there’s an inherent joke about a drowned ghost being thirsty, but I’m not quite reprehensible enough to tell it. Can I assume that reports of spiritual activity in the area are entertainingly indecent?”

“There isn’t a history of sightings at all, though some people feel a brooding or lustful energy here. Don’t worry, I think it’s pretty obvious what we have to do.”

~

“You can’t be serious. Mila, tell him no.”

“In retrospect, I’m pretty sure this entire series has been building towards one of you whipping your dick out on camera. Not it, by the way. I didn’t bring my strap-on.”

“I, for my part, feel like I must concede the role to Victor.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“If our ghost was partial to amazing asses, I would be the clear choice. But given the circumstances, I must admit that Victor’s carrying the right equipment."

Victor’s mouth shuts with a click, unable or unwilling to argue the point. 

~

Victor’s opinion about his dick is generally pretty positive. It’s not deformed, works fine, has never been a problem. It also looks very sad hanging out of his pants in the moonlight, and Victor feels like he’s betrayed it somehow. It’s served him loyally all these years, and now he’s subjecting it to this. 

He leans back against the penis statue he’s hiding behind, bigger than him in every way, and hopes he’s not giving himself a complex. They’ve moved closer to the water for this particularly bizarre attempt at ghost hunting, and Victor can hear waves crashing somewhere in the darkness below. Chris and Mila stay back towards the center of the courtyard, while Victor finds himself outside the half-circle of upright phalluses.

The light dims as a heavy cloud passes in front of the moon. At least the reduced lighting means his dick isn’t all but glowing anymore, pale flesh catching the light. _ Enough is enough _, he decides, tucking himself back into his briefs. He leaves his fly undone, letting the pants ride low over his hips in the spirit of looking inviting for his non-existent audience. Without a name, date, or even gender attached to the drowning it seems likely that the story is just colorful folklore. Interesting in its own way, but not something they’d devote a trip to if not for the sensational location. 

“What’s taking so long?” Chris calls, as if he has any right to complain from where he’s waiting with Mila. “Do you need a fluffer?”

Victor whips his head around in outrage, peering balefully out from behind his refuge. “You think I’m getting _ hard _out here!? All the fisherman did was take a leak!”

“Limp dicks don’t summon lonely virgins, Victor. Seriously, you’re hiding behind an eight foot erection, I think the ghost’s standards have probably risen over the years.”

“Stop it, Chris,” Mila interjects, ever the voice of reason. Well, sometimes the voice of reason. More often the wicked imp pretending to be a long-suffering adult when it suits her. “I’m sure Victor can get it up, there’s no hurry. Not much of a signal out here, but I have porn on my phone if you need help. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

Victor’s dick is officially on strike; it’s staying inside his nice warm undies and filing a workplace harassment claim. His friends can’t see what’s happening on this side of the eight foot erection, and they’re terrible anyway. 

“What kind of porn?” Chris asks. 

~

Victor can’t believe his friends are actually watching porn. The occasional tinny moan echoes across the courtyard, usually accompanied by muffled giggles. They’re a porn parody of _ themselves _, Victor confronting the supernatural with his dick out while the others fool around in the background. They’ve jumped the shark; they should just give it up and retire with what little dignity they have left. 

A particularly loud gasp cuts through the giggling, and Victor’s dick twitches with interest. He stares, incredulous and betrayed by his own anatomy. It has to be a reaction to the sensory deprivation of standing alone and exposed in the dark, but considering whether that might be worth exploring in private doesn’t help the situation. “Well ghost,” he mutters as he adjusts himself, “that’s your cue to take me now I guess.” 

Something makes a cracking sound in the distance, loud enough to be heard over the waves. Victor freezes, wondering if his friends—who have gone suspiciously silent—are trying to sneak up on him. The moon peeks out from behind the clouds, and the light casts new shadows across the park; they flicker in the breeze, dancing across cobblestones and coalescing behind structures. 

_ “For me?” _purrs the shadow pooling around Victor’s feet.

~

Victor is an athletic person with correspondingly impressive lungs, but Chris has never heard him shriek at quite that pitch before. Mila and he fly across the courtyard without a second thought for the camera, their safety, or Victor’s modesty.

They find him wide eyed and disheveled, collapsed against lewdly hewn stone with his legs splayed. “He’s real,” he gasps out as his friend drops to one knee beside him. “Chris he’s real, I _ saw _ him. He was right here and he touched me, and—” Victor fumbles in the grass beneath him, then lifts something round and pale in shaking hands. 

Although the bone is weather worn and smooth, the skull is perfectly intact. The empty eye sockets are deeply shadowed in the limited light, their abyssal stare accusing. Victor’s fingers soothe unconscious patterns over the dome, either seeking or offering comfort. 

“Holy shit,” says Chris. “I wasn’t expecting that to work.”

~

Victor won’t put down the skull, clutching it to his chest in a way that’s worrying. There are vanishingly few circumstances in which cradling the dead remains of another person is acceptable, and this isn’t one of them. There’s also the way he keeps staring back out towards the water, as if he’s watching for something they can’t see. 

“We should go,” announces Mila, already packing her equipment. “We’ll figure out what to do with the skull in the morning. There must be some way to report finding human remains, he or she might have family somewhere.”

“He,” Victor offers, cheeks pinking. “He was beautiful. I have to help him.” 

Mila and Chris share a look, but Mila turns back to her bags, leaving Chris to ask the hard questions. “By ‘help’, do you mean ‘stick your dick in?’”

Victor levels a censoring look his way, and it’s the most uncanny thing he’s done yet. “He’s in trouble, he needs my help. Isn’t that what we do?”

“Umm, no.” Mila looks up from her bags, unable to ignore what’s going on. “Mostly we travel to weird places and have sleepovers for fun and profit.” 

“Why did we have Georgi teach us how to do a seance then?”

“Because Georgi’s hilarious and our fans love him,” Mila answers, voice lilting over the explanation uncertainly, “but he still hasn’t forgiven us for his face becoming a meme.” 

“You should call him,” Victor says, casually dismissing the great eyeshadow disaster of 2016.

~

“Hi Georgi, this is Chris—”

“I told you to stop calling me. And it’s the middle of the night!”

“Peak time for spiritual activity! Shouldn’t these be your regular working hours? But anyway—”

“As if your little show reflects at all the magnificent power of the spiritual world. Shallow, vapid entertainers! I want nothing to do with you.”

“Look, we’re sorry about the meme,” Chris talks over Georgi’s attempt to interrupt. “We accidentally-on-purpose summoned a ghost with pornography and bare dick, then it bad-touched Victor, and now he’s acting kind of possessed.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Victor protests in the background, still petting the skull. 

Chris blinks in abrupt realization. “_ Merde _Victor. A ghost literally gave you head.”

Victor tucks the skull into the crook of his arm, touching his lips the way he does when he’s thinking. “I’m not sure he meant to. I grabbed his head when he startled me, but then he just disappeared.” He sighs mournfully at the recollection.

“What the hell did you do?” Georgi asks.

~

Somewhere in Russia, Georgi scrubs his hands over his face. “I can’t contact the spirit over Skype. I’ll walk you through it, but you’re going to have to do this yourselves.” 

“I’m mostly worried about getting Victor out of here. Is there any way to snap him out of it? Do-it-yourself ghost repellent?” Chris hopes they’re not supposed to have holy water, flying with liquids is such a pain. 

Georgi’s voice curdles with disdain. “I suppose candles and salt are beyond you.”

“...We have baby powder? And maybe a lighter. Hey Mila!” Chris calls to where the redhead is setting up a tripod. If they’re doing this, they might as well get it on tape. “Can you ask Victor if he bought those novelty bath salts earlier?” 

Mila jerks up, looking around uneasily before trotting over. “I thought Victor was with you.”

~

The park is full of shifting shadows, strange shapes and contorted visages looming in the dark. Still, Victor’s feet are light and sure over walkways and steep stone steps. He vaults a railing easily, sliding down a small slope to the water. There’s not really a beach, just a shore lined with raw and rutted rock. With the sea at high tide, only jagged columns pierce its inky surface, reaching for the distant sky. 

He takes a seat in the shale, brushes a spot clean, and carefully sets the skull beside him. Pale as he is, his distorted reflection on the water looks more like a ghost than the real one. “I’m sorry I took your head,” he says.

The ghost doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t seem angry either. He’s a shadow too still to be real, but he gains definition the longer Victor looks. The eyes come in first, dark and serious. _ “There was going to be a wedding,” _ the ghost says, picking at the sleeves of his shift. It wouldn’t have been much protection. _ “The sea took me instead.” _

There’s nothing Victor can say, so he opens his arms, offering whatever comfort his body can provide. The ghost unfurls, limbs unfolding, shadows unwinding until he glows faintly. He sets his palms against Victor’s chest, the touch strange and electric, then moves up to explore broad shoulders. Ethereal fingers creep into his hair and drag softly down his throat. Victor lies back, inviting curious touches to his ribs and stomach, his hips and pelvis, lower. 

_ “The sea cannot love me,” _ the ghost says into Victor’s skin, sinking against him. _ “I want to go home.” _

“I’ll take you,” Victor promises, gripping moonlight thighs. “I’ll take you home.” 

~

“Victor!” Chris yells, trying not to panic. “Victor! Dammit, where are you?”

“We need to call the police. Do you remember the number?”

“It’s 112, same as Russia. I was sure he’d head for the water, fuck. If he’s hurt I’m going to kill him. If he’s playing a joke I’m also going to kill him.”

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Mila says, tacitly agreeing that she hopes this is a terrible prank. She’s punching numbers into her phone as she scrambles down steps, and she runs headlong into Chris when he stops short. 

Without a light, Victor had been invisible from a distance. He ascends the stairs calmly, unbothered by the darkness or their sudden presence as he stares at the skull in his hands fondly. How he hasn’t broken his neck is a mystery.

“Victor,” Chris breaths out, torn between relief and rage.

“Hey guys,” Victor says, “let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Haesindang Park in South Korea is real, and this story was inspired by (though not terribly faithful to) the tale behind its creation. It's also beautifully illustrated in the art linked at the top of the page, which you should go praise smolkristen for if you haven't yet.
> 
> I also love feedback/kudos, if you care to leave any, but most of all thanks for reading!
> 
> Oh, and my tumblr is [here](https://adelth.tumblr.com/) if you want to drop by. I don't bite, I just make terrible dick jokes.


End file.
